The Darkling Bride
by Sulfur Dusk
Summary: AU - When Raven, one of the last of her kind, is taken as a slave and thrown into the arms of the tyrannical and possessive Prince Richard, the unexpected becomes the inevitable. [ Robin x Raven ] [ Dark!Robin ]


**The Darkling Bride**

 **Full Summary:** _She was the orphan apprentice of Malchior, the most feared rogue sorcerer—and practitioner of black magic— in the country. Then, thanks to circumstances out of her control, she was taken as a slave and thrown into the arms of a cold, tyrannical prince. Lust was not part of the original equation, and neither was a feeling as forbidden as love, but with a woman as sensual and rebellious as Raven, and a man as stubborn and possessive as Richard, the unexpected becomes the inevitable._

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 **Prologue**

* * *

At the turn of his eleventh year, Prince Richard Grayson was confident that he would become the greatest ruler in the history of his dynasty. His father had failed to conjure any important laws or significant battlefield arrangements, even when supposedly following teachings of goddesses and gods since the beginning of time,

Not that the importance of those history lessons that he was tutored in were _terribly_ important, but as he observed his primary mentor, Lieutenant Bruce Wayne of the Royal Military Legion resign from his own post, Richard was confident that he was meant to propose a force of nature that was far greater than his father. The neighboring councils had threatened propositions of war before, and even now, dressed finely in an officer coat, decked out with a fresh row of silver buttons, imprinted with medals of the Royal Legion and admiring the polish on his black boots, he knew he looked the part.

 _Eleven years old, and ready to take the entire world by storm._

He surveyed his reflection in the mirror, examining the ticking clock just above his head. It was close to his coronation, where he would stand on the pristine, pearled white balcony, practicing his best public smile, while the Grayson banners—colored green, black and red—would billow like curtains.

He would have to live up to the expectations of people who simultaneously loathed and loved him. His several teachers promised him that war would never change, and sometimes it was even more difficult to transition another person's thoughts politically.

 _Remember, son, those who practice magic that are not licensed under our laws, are permitted for immediate death._

The word "execution" danced across his old man's tongue like wildfire. Whenever he spoke of those who wielded magic— _blackblooded_ scum, as he would kindly refer to them—those who were considered to be demon-spawn, he envisioned the hundreds of executions he was required to attend.

He remembered the unusual masks that these apparent beasts carried, inhuman yet human, begging like people yet not entirely _people_ , designed from their births to trick humanity into presenting them mercy. While his father was indeed reckless, he was no fool, and he could see past their glowing facades.

Perhaps that what why his father was such a feared—yet respected—ruler.

As far as Richard understood, the blackbloods practically begged for a blade to slice off their heads or skewer their hearts, end their pathetic misery. Who would enjoy living a life of knowing they were never meant to be born?

He was destined for great things, as his mother had told him when he was a newborn, instantly blessed with the prediction to become a king as fine as his father. He wanted to repress the weakness that his old man had felt, and today, on his own birthday, he would mark the occasion with poignancy. The best of his abilities were not going to be enough for his people at times; he needed to make it clear that they were going to have to deal with a lot more than they had originally intended.

 _Be brutal. Be fierce. Do not let them control you. Graysons are not fools to be won over by the public. How do you think I became the way I was?_

His old man certainly had a way with words. He recalled standing at the side of his deathbed, watching the life flicker out of orbs as warm as chocolate, yet as tantalizing as crystallized soil. His soul left his body within minutes of declaring that he was hoping his son to be a fine, fine king.

That was six months ago.

He listened to the roaring of the crowd, picturing thousands upon thousands of colored faces, of women and children dressed head to toe in fine silks. The people of this quarter of the kingdom were primarily richer than most, and he had not seen many people within his father's courtroom that didn't carry around some form of gemstone, whether they ere slung across their fingers or around their necks.

 _Remember to be strong._

Richard smoothed down his jacket, fixing the military style hat and recalling the words of his speech, of his birthday, of his coronation, that would hopefully change the course of history. He was destined for many bloody days and nights, and that, in all honesty, was totally fine with him.

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 **~ 000 ~**

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Raven had a hard time understanding how someone as brilliant and deftly poised as her mentor could not cook the simplest foods. She heard the crackling of fire, could recognize the distinctive scent of roasting animal flesh, and all she could hear, specifically, was her master whispering ghostly words under his breath.

She'd learned to get used to his rituals. She wasn't going to learn unless she embraced the oddities of their partnership, or relationship, or whatever she could consider it to be. At ten years of age, she was thought to be mature enough to handle the darker arts, though her master had insisted that her progress would only blossom through time.

"This isn't dinner, little one," the sorcerer whispered.

He was a detestable anomaly to those hunting their kind, like victims of a royal escapade. His body was not entirely there—soon after encountering each other amidst chaos, the little girl, his "talented little sorceress" , had bound his soul within thousands of torn chapters of her precious books. Those books were taken from the remains of what was once her home, taking away the likenesses of her parents along with them.

Her books had transformed into the vessel that contained her adoptive master's essence. He told her that she should be proud of what she could accomplish, and promptly took her under his wing, moving to the farthest end of the western region, past the crumbled nation of Azar where Raven was born.

She truly did love and appreciate her master, but she would be lying to herself if she hadn't found him frightening on some occasions. Whenever they left the secluded cottage in the far western meadows to scout for supplies, he kept her close to him, like a good luck charm, or an ornament. She suspected he was planning on showcasing her abilities soon, to make her practice on a tree stump, or meditate for hours upon hours after he found the right remedies.

She was very, very wrong.

"You killed this creature with excellent precision and accuracy, but you must learn to control the extent of your powers. You are much stronger than others of your kind." His voice was soothing, and it would be charming to any normal human who didn't practice the illegal black arts. Malchior was a wizard of seductive prowess, and he managed to ensnare Raven within moments of meeting her several years ago, but once his body was vanquished, she realized he was simultaneously in her debt as well.

"How long?" she asked suddenly.

Malchior's paper fingers paused in hovering over the lump of boar meat. He slowly turned his head, the flash of golden eyes nearly petrifying his apprentice.

"I'm afraid I didn't catch that."

The tiny girl from Azar straightened her shoulders, wondering if her false attempt at bravery was winning her any favors. "How long are you going to make me kill things like that? It was… that boar had a family." It was a mother, and Malchior would have made her slaughter its offspring too if he weren't so satisfied with the size of their original target.

Malchior dipped his head, surveying her carefully. "My sweet Raven," he muttered. "Sacrifices must be made for the greater practices. You're lucky I didn't have you target something else for your training."

Her eyes momentarily widened at this statement, her throat clenching in uncertainty. "I understand."

He seemed fine with that answer. "Good. I will let you have a piece of this creature, before I use its organs in my experiments. That will take your mind off things."

She grinned in thanks, but couldn't muster the strength to eat a single piece of a creature she'd violently torn apart from the inside out.

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 **I'm not sure if I will continue this or not, but the idea's been floating around for a while and I'm still figuring out an outline, but there's the prologue. So… yeah, hope you enjoy it so far. :) The following chapters are planned to be much longer and more detailed, but I wanted to introduce brief (and kinda vague) glimpses of the two's childhood, just in case. If anything, this will be updated after finishing _Priceless_.**

 **Reviews are much appreciated! :) Thank you all!**

 **\- Sulfur Dusk**


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